Ben Kane - Clouds of War

‘It will be too late by the time we get there, damn it,’ said Kleitos, scowling.

Behind his blinding headache, Hanno was thinking the same thing. Wherever the Romans were, on the other hand, people would be running. The enemy would be moving fast, like rainwater from a storm that forms new trails through dusty ground. Swathes of the city would have fallen before Epicydes managed to marshal enough troops together. His men wouldn’t have much spine for a fight either, thanks to the vast amounts of wine that had been consumed for the two nights prior. Bitterness took Hanno. What difference to the outcome could they, six soldiers, make? What difference could he make? The resounding answer to both questions was ‘none’. Whereas if he reached Aurelia, he might be able to get her out, before the Romans reached the quarter near Euryalus. To where, he had no idea, but anything was better than her just waiting, terrified, for him. ‘Kleitos,’ he said.

His friend glanced at him. ‘Go.’

Hanno stared in shock.

‘You don’t have to prove your loyalty to me,’ said Kleitos in a low voice. ‘Your sword isn’t going to change what happens to the city today, but it might save Aurelia’s life.’

‘I-’

‘If I’d had the chance, I would have done the same in Enna, for my woman. Go, Hanno, and may your gods watch over you.’ Kleitos reached out a hand. ‘I’ll see you in Achradina, later.’

They shook. ‘Will Achradina hold, do you think?’ asked Hanno.

‘I damn well hope so. If it doesn’t, all of Syracuse will fall today. I don’t even want to think about that.’

‘No.’ Hanno had been thinking of using the tunnels near the Euryalus fort, but doing that would still leave them within the Roman fortifications. In reality, it also meant deserting. Despite his desperation to save Aurelia, Hanno couldn’t do that. He came to a decision. In Achradina, he could fight on. They would have access to Ortygia, and ships. If it came to it, escaping by sea would be easier, perhaps. ‘Very well. We’ll make for there. Thank you, Kleitos. Zeus Soter protect you.’

‘We’ll need his help. Do you know which way to go?’

‘Aye. I recognise this square.’ Hanno didn’t know what else to say. It was likely that he and Kleitos would never meet again. Their eyes met, reflected the same intense feeling. ‘Farewell.’ Breaking the gaze, he ducked off into an alleyway to his left.

He lost all sense of time during the journey that followed. Sometimes he walked, sometimes ran. He shoved and pushed, squeezed through narrow gaps that left scrapes on his bronze armour. It wasn’t long before he had to stop and throw up. Sadly, it did not relieve his nausea, and made his headache far worse. On another occasion, he would have felt sorry for himself. Now he ignored it, and soldiered on. He crawled on his hands and knees to get past a wagon that was blocking a narrow street. A short while after, frustrated by a neighbourhood that was entirely at a standstill, he pounded up the stairs of an apartment block and clambered on to its roof. The view he was afforded sent cold sweat slicking down his back. Thick plumes of black smoke were rising from every part of Epipolae. There was no mistaking the sound of screams either, or the ring of arms. The Romans had not been contained, nor could they be any longer. Cursing, he turned away.

The red clay tiles of the roof made treacherous footing. More than once, he came close to falling. The short distance between buildings proved an advantage, however, allowing him to jump from one to the next. In this fashion, he made it around the area of blocked streets. When the time came to climb down from his lofty position, Hanno gave an elderly woman the shock of her life by dropping on to the landing outside her open door. He smiled and raised his open hands to show that he meant her no harm, and clattered down the stairs. There was no point saying anything to the crone. It was safer for her to remain where she was than to risk the insanity on the streets. He found it far harder to ignore the pleas of the attractive young mother with two children, who begged him to help her reach safety. ‘I can’t, I’m sorry,’ said Hanno without looking at her. ‘Take us with you, then,’ she pleaded. ‘I can see you’re a good man. We’ll be no trouble, I swear it.’ With guilt tearing at him, and the hammers of hell beating at his temples, he muttered an excuse and left her sobbing in his wake.

Thankfully, the crowds and the panic eased a little as Hanno drew further away from the centre of the city. People were still flocking towards Achradina and Tyche, but there was room to move on the streets. This development accentuated his worries rather than easing them. What if Aurelia had already left their rooms? There would be no hope of finding her. He broke into a sprint, covering the last five stadia in less time than it had taken him to travel the first one. At the house, he had to take a moment to dry retch and wipe away the sweat that coated his entire face. Gods, but he wished that he hadn’t drunk so much the night before.

It was with a wave of relief that he heard her moving within as he pounded on the door with a balled fist. ‘Aurelia! It’s Hanno.’

There was a heartbeat’s pause. ‘Hanno?’

‘Yes. I’m here.’

The bolt slid back. She opened the door and regarded him, red-eyed, before throwing herself into his arms. ‘Oh, Hanno! I’ve been so scared. The screaming on the street has been terrifying. People are saying that the legionaries will kill us all.’

‘That won’t happen,’ he lied.

‘I knew you would come.’

Thank the gods she didn’t know how nearly he had not, he thought guiltily, holding her tight. At least they were together. What he wouldn’t have given, though, for Mutt and his Libyans to be at his side as well.

A couple of hours after their search for Pera had begun, Quintus had been forced to accede that the gods had had no intention of helping them. Their quest had been hampered by the utter chaos that reigned in the city. It had been fine at first, all the way back to the Galeagra, where they had hoped he might still be. There had been no sign of Pera, however, nor of anyone in his unit. The hastati who were holding the position by that stage didn’t even know his name. ‘Forget about your commanding officer,’ one had advised, assuming that that was whom Pera was. ‘He’ll find you later. Until then, do what you want!’ The soldier’s comrades had laughed cruelly, and Quintus’ mind had filled with dark images of Enna.

By now, the garrison had been roused from its slumbers, yet there was no organised resistance. Small groups of enemy soldiers appeared here and there, but it was clear that most were too drunk or incapacitated to fight, or had stumbled outside without fully arming themselves. Their officers were missing, or they were intimidated by the number of legionaries swarming through the city. Again and again, Quintus saw a single charge put the enemy to flight. Every time that happened, the panic spread even faster. It didn’t help the defenders’ cause that hundreds, even thousands of terrified civilians were trying to flee the carnage. Quintus grew used to seeing Syracusan troops cutting down unarmed residents in an effort to escape.

They had to halt their search for a time when an optio in charge of half a century of principes ordered them to help clear a wide thoroughfare of enemy forces. When that was done, it was easy enough to slip away again into the mayhem. Odd images stuck in Quintus’ mind as they sought Pera. In a market square, they found legionaries gorging themselves on the wine that they’d taken from a warehouse. Some were already drunk, and were bathing in the central fountain, naked apart from their baldrics and sheathed swords. They saw hens running hither and thither in an alleyway, trying to escape the clutches of a pair of laughing velites. With their arms full of fresh loaves and pastries, legionaries trampled uncaring over the gutted body of a baker. Five horses, mounts for the enemy cavalry, galloped wildly down a street, sending Romans and Syracusans alike diving for cover.